


Vow

by berryblack



Series: Vow [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, bruce wayne is a bad man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryblack/pseuds/berryblack
Summary: Bruce promised himself there would never be another boy.





	Vow

**Author's Note:**

> This is tagged as dubious consent, but understand that Tim is not actually old enough to give consent in this fic. It is 100% meant to depict a bad situation. Hence the last tag.

There’s no real point in trying to dig up information about him. In the weeks they’ve known each other, the boy has willingly given Bruce almost every possible detail about himself that he could want. The problem is, Bruce shouldn’t be considering him at all. He swore to himself over a year ago that there would be no Robin ever again. After what happened to Jason, yes. But also Dick, too. Everything that had happened to the both of them. With Bruce, because of Bruce. It was better for Robin to stay dead.

Bruce runs a hand through his hair as he stares up at the screen. 

Tim Drake, thirteen years old. Eighth grader at a boarding school just outside of Gotham. But Bruce already knew that, because he had just instructed Alfred to drive Tim there thirty minutes ago. Because Tim had been here, in a billionaire’s manor. A billionaire of no relation to him. He had spent the night here, because yesterday Bruce couldn’t find it in himself to tell him to leave. Today he had been able to, and yet still here he was half an hour later, unable to carry on with his day.

Bruce has a weakness, one he’s understood about himself for a decade now. It’s one weakness but it’s also many weaknesses, many things that stir around in his chest and make him ache. Soft skin, shy smiles, breathy little laughs. The physical similarities are undeniable, so much so that it amazes him other people haven’t caught on. Dark, dark hair and, yes, pale blue eyes. The fact that so many boys have made their way into his life makes him feel more cursed than blessed, like it has to be some kind of sick joke to prove how worthless he really is. He is weak, and he had failed two children he had sworn to protect. He had hurt them, whether they understood it or not, long before their days as Robin had ended.

Bruce promised himself there would never be another boy.

The most recent picture seems to still be a few years old. It’s a school picture, identical to the ones Dick and Jason used to take. Tim grins at the camera, several teeth missing and black hair gelled into place, like maybe Janet had fixed it for him that morning. Or maybe Tim had done it himself. 

Now, Tim has braces, and his hair falls over his forehead in a style that can really only be described as boyish. 

Bruce feels that familiar wash of shame as his pants tighten. 

Tim is far too trusting.

Robin should not be trusting. Except—Robin should always be trusting of Batman. It’s a flaw in Bruce’s teachings, made even more obvious by the fact that no Robin has ever really questioned it. But Tim isn’t Robin. Tim is just a boy, a boy who makes no secret of his deep admiration for Bruce. He wants to be down in the cave, he wants to be helpful. But he also wants to follow Bruce around upstairs, he wants to sit in Bruce’s office while he works there, too.

He doesn’t want to be alone, Bruce can easily understand that. It’s probably the one thing Tim would be reluctant to admit to his face, but it would be painfully obvious to any adult, as much as Tim probably thinks of himself as being good at hiding things.

It’s Sunday, late afternoon. An orange glow radiates Bruce’s office, and it’s silent aside from the occasional flipping of a page. From his desk, Bruce has a perfect view of where Tim lies on the floor. He's on his stomach, lost in the pages of some detective novel, occasionally kicking his legs slowly back and forth in the air. He hasn’t made a sound in about an hour, Bruce assumes he’s doing exactly what he would have been doing in his room at home, or his dorm at school. Yet still, Bruce thinks it would be entirely better for him to be at either of those places instead, even if it meant being alone.

Alfred is downstairs, probably starting dinner. He’s made several comments about making sure Tim is eating plenty of real meals, because, in his opinion, Tim is far too skinny. Bruce watches the way the sunlight rests on both of Tim’s bare calves. If he’s ever going to become Robin, he certainly will have to bulk up. But for now...

Dinner will take a while.

Bruce leans back in his chair. If he really wanted, he could go down to the cave now, and still come back up for dinner later. Alfred wouldn’t like it, but it’s not like he would actually stop him. Tim could keep reading his book, or maybe he has homework he needs to finish before tomorrow. He would want to follow Bruce, but if he was given a firm no, he would probably listen. The room feels hot to Bruce suddenly, despite the fact that he knows how drafty the manor typically is in the fall. 

He could go down to the cave. He could stay away until Alfred calls him up.

Tim sighs and rolls his ankles until they crack, and then sighs again.

Maybe he’s getting bored. He's a thirteen year old boy, after all.

“Tim,” Bruce says abruptly, clearly startling the boy who looks at him with wide blue eyes. He lowers his voice this time. “Come here.”

Obedient as ever, Tim drops the book and gets up without question, walking over unsteadily after spending so many hours lying on the floor. He stops on the opposite side of Bruce’s desk, expression making it clear just how eager he is to do anything Bruce asks of him. Part of Bruce wishes he wouldn’t look at him that way.

“You can come closer, son,” He adds, rolling his chair back a few inches. Tim furrows his brows in confusion, but gets the message and rounds the desk anyway, still stopping to stand a respectable foot or so in front of Bruce.

“Is something wrong?” Tim finally asks, and Bruce doesn’t miss the way Tim’s eyes flick down over his body and back up again. Again, he’s never as subtle as he thinks he is.

Bruce shakes his head and shifts in his chair. “Were you enjoying your book?”

Tim looks at him curiously, clearly figuring that Bruce didn’t call him over to talk about the book. Still, his cheeks turn a tinge of pink and he looks down at the floor. “Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve read it,” He starts, “I know it’s dumb since I already know how it ends, but...”

“It’s not dumb,” Bruce says quickly, probably a little too quickly going by the way Tim immediately looks like he regrets saying it. Bruce softens his tone. “You enjoy your mysteries.”

Tim smiles at him shyly. “I do,” He agrees, leaving it at that. He’s waiting for instructions, or maybe for Bruce to tell him it’s time for him to go back to his school. If Alfred wasn’t busy, maybe Bruce would still do the latter. But he’s preoccupied, and will stay that way for another hour or two. Tim has started to chew his plump bottom lip nervously. 

Bruce rolls his chair closer until Tim in standing in between his knees, and places his hands on either side of the boy’s waist. He doesn’t have much of an excuse to be touching him like this, and frankly if he really wanted to he could have come up with some sort of scenario where he would come out looking like a hero for being this close to Tim. But the truth is, Bruce knows he doesn’t need an excuse to do it, because he’s done it before. He got away with it. He promised himself there wouldn’t be another, but here Tim is.

The boy who thinks he knows all there is to know about Batman and Robin. The boy who thinks he would do anything Bruce wanted. 

He has no idea how weak Bruce actually is.

Bruce has tried to keep the physical contact to a minimum, mostly because he knows how hard it is to keep the touches friendly and innocent. Tim is stiff and nervous between Bruce’s hands, confused about what Bruce is doing, unsure of how to react. Bruce rubs up and down his sides for a few seconds. It’s awkward, but Tim is so small, he just wants to feel him. Tim inhales shakily.

“Alfred says I’m too skinny to be Robin,” He breathes out suddenly, stumbling over his words a little. Bruce knows that’s his way of asking if he is somehow checking his physique in some roundabout way, maybe even hoping it’s something that simple. His face is flushed pink and he avoids Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce shakes his head. “You’re fine for your age,” He reassures him, although it’s not entirely true. Tim is both shorter and thinner than Dick and Jason had been at the same age, and the Robin tunic had been noticeably loose on him the single time that he wore it. Bruce doesn't think size has much to do with being Robin, and at Tim’s age he could wake up tomorrow and be two inches taller, but it doesn’t do much to help with Bruce’s apprehension about taking him on officially.

At the moment though, Bruce is extremely pleased with the way his hands can almost completely encircle Tim’s waist. He slips his hands up under the edges of Tim’s shirt, feeling the way he shivers faintly. Tim’s skin is as soft as anyone would expect, and the worried look he gives Bruce only makes it that much better. “What are you doing?” He asks. The way he manages to sound more curious than accusatory is another testament to how much he really trusts Bruce.

Bruce, however, chooses to ignore his question. He slides his hands up to feel Tim’s chest for a moment before moving them back down again, to the waistband of his comfortable elastic shorts. Tim is looking down at his hands, as if trying to predict what they’ll do next. More than just confused, he’s scared now. He should be scared. Bruce rubs small circles into his hipbones. “It’s alright, son,” He whispers, but it comes out gruffer than he intended. Tim’s eyes finally meet his again, and a shaky hand wraps around one of his wrists. Bruce knows Tim is still looking for some kind of answer, he’s asking Bruce to explain that this isn’t turning into what it feels like. He won’t ask anything else out loud, he wants so badly to always be what Bruce wants him to be. Bruce pulls Tim’s hand off of his wrist. “Let me.”

Tim gasps when Bruce’s hand slides down the front of his waistband, and Bruce himself can’t hold back his groan at the feeling of how smooth he is even here. Tim has only just barely started puberty, a fact made apparent by his lack hair and his small size. Bruce palms his flaccid cock and absorbs the look on Tim’s face as he watches Bruce’s hand through his shorts. Tim’s eyes flicker over to Bruce’s lap and then back down again.

Bruce is, of course, hard, a sight apparent to someone even as innocent as Tim might be. Tim’s cock has started to firm up as Bruce gropes him, and he whimpers and twists on the spot. It’s unlikely that this would be the first time Tim has ever gotten an erection, but Bruce can’t help but feel a little curious anyway. He thinks back to checking the security cameras and the way he’s never seen any suspicious behavior from Tim on the feeds, no matter how badly he secretly hoped to catch him one day. “Have you ever touched yourself like this?”

Tim snaps his head up to look at him and quickly shakes his head. “I don’t—Well, I try to—“ He gasps as Bruce tugs on him, and then tries to steady himself. “Sometimes I wake up. Rubbing against the bed, but...” He can’t focus with the way Bruce is playing with him.

“That’s normal,” Bruce reassures him, trying to sound as trustworthy as someone with a hand down a thirteen year old’s pants can. “But you try to avoid touching yourself?”

Tim takes a moment to decide how to respond. “I guess I just don’t want to do something that might be wrong,” He admits. He looks a little sad and ashamed. It’s an expression Bruce has seen on him far too often.

Bruce leans forward until his lips are pressed to the shell of Tim’s ear. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with this,” Tim is probably too excited to internalize the message, but he nods his head sharply anyway. His cock is small and slippery and hard for Bruce to keep a good grip on with his large hand. He’s started to thrust against Bruce’s hand instead, steadying himself by grabbing onto Bruce’s shoulders and squeezing them incredibly tight. He lets Tim take his pleasure. “That’s good,” Bruce whispers. Tim whimpers at the praise, losing himself in the feeling.

“Bruce?” He sounds lost and confused, overwhelmed by sensations he hasn’t had much time to get used to. Bruce can tell by the way he’s twitching that he won’t last much longer.

“It’s okay, Tim,” They lock eyes again. Tim’s expression looks completely glazed over. “You can let go.”

Tim falls forward when he spurts in Bruce’s hand, burying his face in Bruce’s shoulder, trying to stifle his cry. He lets Tim ride it out, murmuring more encouraging things in his ear. He doesn’t stop shaking even after he’s done. Bruce pulls his come covered hand out of his shorts, listening to the way Tim’s soft whimpers turn into sniffles. When Tim lifts his head back up, his eyes are glassy.

It should make Bruce feel guilty. 

It might have been Tim’s first real orgasm, but it’s more likely he’s emotional because he’s in shock over Bruce touching him like this. Making him come. He looks down at Bruce’s hand and somehow manages to flush even deeper than before, opening and closing his mouth like he was going to apologize and then thought better of it.

“You did good,” Bruce reminds him. Despite his distress, Tim glows a little under the praise. He still wants to please Bruce, he might even think this is some sort of test. It’s wrong, but it’s beneficial to Bruce for him to feel that way. Bruce lifts his palm in front of Tim’s face. Tim looks at the hand, and then at Bruce, and back again. He licks his lips.

Tim is a smart boy, grabbing Bruce’s wrist and giving a small, experimental lick. Bruce watches his little pink tongue take its first taste of come, he can see the way Tim is trying to classify it in his mind. Once he decides it’s not so bad, he grows bolder, running the flat of his tongue up the sides of Bruce’s fingers and moaning unintentionally as he does so. There isn’t much of it for him to clean up, so as Tim finishes up the last of it, Bruce pushes two fingers back against the flat of his tongue. “Suck.”

Tim eagerly follows his command, closing his mouth around the fingers, getting as much off of them as he can. It’s clear he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he’s trying so hard, and the way he looks up at Bruce from beneath his lashes makes him twitch hard in his pants. He wonders if Tim has thought about doing this with a man before. He knows Tim usually watches him as he changes down in the cave, he knows the way Tim idolized Batman and Robin goes a step beyond normal hero worship. It’s possible he’s fulfilling some kind of fantasy for the boy, but he knows in the end that doesn’t justify the crime he’s committing.

He keeps going anyway, spurred on by Tim’s hungry expression. Tim moans around his fingers as he pushes them deeper into his mouth, towards the back of his throat. Tim attempts to take them but ends up convulsing and gagging around them instead, eyes watering as Bruce doesn’t pull them out. He adjusts, whimpering as his mouth is fucked by only a pair of fingers, still wanting so badly to impress.

“Do you like that?” Bruce asks him, his own throat feeling tight with how aroused he is. Tim doesn’t try to say yes or no, or even move his head, he only makes a loud whine until Bruce pulls his fingers back. Tim breathes heavily and drools, staring at the saliva covered fingers like he’s terrified but also like he would gladly take them again. Bruce cups himself through his slacks with his other hand. 

It’s getting later in the day, the sunlight beaming through the windows of his office growing fainter and fainter. Tim looks flushed and beautiful, and Bruce has a strong urge to strip him, to lay him flat on his desk force him to orgasm again and again. But Alfred will be done with dinner soon, and he’ll come looking for them. Bruce figures it’s best not to draw things out for too much longer, despite how badly he wants to enjoy the boy in front of him.

Besides, Bruce would have plenty more opportunities to do so if Tim kept insisting on being around him.

“Strip and get on your knees,” He instructs, and Tim moves almost automatically, pulling his shirt up over his head and exposing his pale, soft stomach and his peachy nipples. He shimmies his shorts down his hips, his flaccid cock bouncing with his movements. Bruce doesn’t get much time to look at him before he’s down on floor, hands on his knees and looking up at Bruce expectantly. “Good.” Bruce groans at him, opening up his own pants just enough to pull his cock out. 

Tim’s eyes grow wide at the sight of it.

Bruce strokes himself a few times, admiring the obedient boy in front of him. He could bring himself off quickly like this, but with the desk blocking any view of Tim from the door, he feels a little more comfortable. Tim seems transfixed by the motion of his hand, or by the way the head of his cock disappears and reappears underneath his fist. He unknowingly licks his lips again.

Bruce cradles the back of Tim’s head with one hand and continues to jerk himself off with the other, pulling Tim’s face closer to his cock. He slows down and rubs the head against Tim’s soft cheek, leaving a shining trail. Tim’s eyes flutter closed but his mouth falls open invitingly, so Bruce prods at his lips and feels Tim shyly swipe him with the tip of his tongue in return. He opens his eyes again and looks directly up at Bruce. 

“Do you want to take it, boy?” Tim makes a noise of approval but takes the initiative of sucking the head into his mouth on his own anyway. Bruce moans and grips his hair but does his best to keep still, knowing Tim couldn’t fit much of it into his small mouth. Tim tongues around the head curiously, tasting the slit with a little wiggle. “That’s it,” Bruce tells him, letting him get a feel for it at the pace he chooses.

Encouraged by Bruce’s praises, Tim takes more of him into his mouth, wrapping a small hand around the base of his cock and sucking him in sloppily. His mouth is tight, drooling as his lips are stretched around not even the thickest part of Bruce. He moans around Bruce like he’s taking pleasure from just this, like he wants to have his throat fucked despite the fact he has no idea what he’s doing. Bruce wants to keep moving slowly, but he can’t stop the need to thrust further into that wet heat, to give the boy what he really wants.

Bruce is barely halfway in and his cock still ends up hitting the back up Tim’s throat. Tim gags and chokes around him, eyes watering as Bruce holds him there. When he pulls the boy off, he coughs and spits and shakes, but he doesn’t look upset.

“It’s too big,” Tim gasps, wiping the drool off of his chin. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and his voice is thin and rough. 

“Do you want to stop?” Bruce offers him, even though he knows he’ll probably make Tim keep going anyway. He’s already crossed the line, and whether or not Tim wanted this never really mattered much in the first place.

It does, however, really make things easier for him when they do. 

Tim suddenly looks bashful. “I want to make you feel good,” He says, in that far too sincere and far too serious tone he uses sometimes. It makes Bruce feel very lucky, and also guilty. It’s sick to take advantage of Tim’s devotion to him. Tim is a normal, lonely boy, who looks up to an older man because his own father is neglecting him. The pleasure Tim takes from this won’t be physical, it will be emotional, when he thinks he’s being of use to Bruce. When he’s turning himself into something of value for someone he thinks won’t leave him behind. Tim is smart enough to know what Bruce is doing is wrong, but he’s desperate enough for affection to convince himself it’s actually a good thing. 

But knowing things like this have never stopped Bruce before.

He pushes past Tim’s lips again and lets the boy suck him down. Tim quickly gets back to work, growing more confident and bobbing his head as Bruce directs him to. When Bruce wants his throat again, he instructs him to relax, and Tim does his best to go slack around him. Bruce cradles his head with both hands now, slowly pushing farther into Tim’s mouth. He still won’t be able to fit most of his cock in, but Tim does a better job at taking the length he does give him. 

“Good boy,” Bruce tells him, gently pushing his hair back from his slightly sweaty forehead. It’s all the warning he gives him before he starts to fuck into his throat. Tim gags around him again but Bruce doesn’t stop, getting off on the choked off cries Tim makes every time Bruce thrusts in. Tears spill out of Tim’s eyes as Bruce uses him, and it only makes Bruce that much harder. Bruce forces his way further in and then holds Tim there, watching his throat convulse, and then taking in the entire image.

Tim, pale and delicate, completely naked and forced to take Bruce’s large cock as deep as it will go. A young boy on his knees being used by a much older man. His mentor. Maybe even a father figure in the back of his mind. Fresh tears slide down his cheeks, but he doesn’t look nearly as in distress as he should. He’s still looking up at Bruce, he still wants to be good for him. 

“Fuck,” Bruce grunts and roughly pulls Tim completely off his cock, ignoring the way he coughs violently, grabbing his face with one hand and his own cock with the other. He strokes himself only a few times before he’s releasing on the boy with a long moan, pumping load after load onto his face, his hair, his chest. Tim looks bewildered but stays very still, letting Bruce paint him as he sees fit.

When Bruce is finished, neither of them say anything. Tim looks completely disheveled, covered in Bruce’s seed. He breathes heavily and drops his face onto Bruce’s thigh, ruining his slacks, but Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop with the way the boy is nuzzling him. They'll both have to change, and Tim will definitely have to take a shower. It’ll look suspicious, but Alfred has let Bruce get away with much worse in the past. He thinks about directing Tim to stand up when he notices the way his breath is hitching, and the subtle twitch of his shoulder.

Tim got hard again while sucking Bruce off. Not surprising, since Bruce knows how fast boys can bounce back at his age. He figures it’s best to let him finish himself off now, quickly, before they get cleaned up. Bruce listens to the soft, wet noises and feels relieved that he won’t be able to get hard again.

“Bruce,” Tim whines, never moving his face from where it rests, taking comfort in being close. He still craves encouragement.

“That’s it, Tim,” Bruce says, stroking all over his hair and shoulders. He’s proud of his boy, so eager and well behaved. “Make yourself come for me.”

Tim is quieter when he comes for a second time, although he still shakes just as hard. When he’s done, he finally relaxes completely against Bruce, sighing and closing his eyes.

When it’s time to get up, Bruce lifts him up from under his armpits like a child. 

Dinner feels like it lasts a lifetime, and Bruce doesn’t actually taste a single bite of his food. Tim, with his freshly washed wet hair and a pink glow on his cheeks, keeps trying to catch his eyes from across the table, and it only makes Bruce feel even more hollow. 

He instructs Alfred to drive Tim back to school without so as much of a goodbye before he moves down into the cave for the night. He sits in his chair and stares at a blank screen, willing himself to forget about all of this for the rest of the night. This is what Bruce wanted to avoid. This is what he knew would happen if he let another boy into his life, into his home. Tim will think he did something wrong for the next few days. When he comes back over, Bruce will try to make him feel comfortable again. He will try to stop himself from succumbing to his needs again.

It is likely he will fail.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta, so I apologize if I missed anything. I plan on writing more with the other robins as well, so let me know what you think! Or tell me how sick I am, you won't convince me Bruce isn't a child abuser.


End file.
